A Descent into the Maelstrom
by Shidoari
Summary: Naruto has a connection with nature:The wind,the trees,birds and critters speak to him - and they all seem to give him life-threatening advice.That is until Sakumo Hatake,a fellow patient, talks about his son,Kakashi, those voices  are hushed.
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**A/N:** I...don't ask, i needed something else/refreshing to rebuild my muse for the Molestation of a Man and its fun to mess about with some scenarios. so, yeah. Do forgive this brain of mine, hm, folks?

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Naruto isn't mine...Pfft.

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><p><strong>Warning:<strong> Yaoi, bad words, sensitive subject matter (suicide,mental illness.)

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><p><strong>Full Summary:<strong> Naruto Uzumaki has a profound connection with nature. The wind, the trees, birds and small mammals speak to him - and they all seem to give him lousy, life-threatening advice. Only when meeting a fellow patient of Evergreen Psychiatric Hospital, Sakumo Hatake, who talks about his son, Kakashi, does Naruto find those voices falling silent. _Schizophrenic!Naruto, Alive!Sakumo and…wait, Kakashi writes, BL novels? _

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><p><strong>0.1<strong>

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><p>A shuffle of slipper-clad feet from twitchily anxious patients, the soft murmuring of the recreational room's T.V lulling the seated, heavily medicated zombies into contentment and the occasional bang of a more volatile patient's fist-meeting-plasterboard tended to be the usual white-noise in Sakumo Hatake's ears. He's only fifty-two, an age in which some men or women are still working their fingers to the bone – but no, he's been out of employment for two years since his enforced admittance into Evergreen Psychiatric Hospital. It had all been once bad choice, one bad thought and a crippling yet spiraling depression which had led to his son <em>(his beautiful, gifted, one of a kind son: Kakashi)<em> discovering his twitching, eye-bulging body dangling by a crude noose from the upper staircase.

There wasn't a single day Sakumo didn't utter an apology for his actions to himself or others.

But alas, through the sporadically rare visits from his pride and joy, Kakashi, in the space of two years combined with awkwardly worded letters or tense, ten minute phone conversations, Sakumo's temporary residence at Evergreen was coming to a close. Soon enough, due to his steady year of improvement and medication, he would be released back into society and under the watchful care of his only child. It was a blessing really (upon peering around the modest, yellow-tinged walls and the sight of bored-looking orderlies and borderline brain-dead patients shuffling about or drooling at the TV in a haze) that he hadn't descended into further madness over his two-year stay. After all, Kakashi's held a mild aversion to visiting him as opposed to his old comrade, Jiraiya, who visited each and every weekend, often having to be frisked for sneaked-in bottles of sake.

However, Sakumo didn't blame his son for not visiting, knowing that Kakashi was far more sensitive than the icy calm exterior which he portrayed to the majority of people. Besides, Sakumo reasoned with a quirk of his lips as he brushed his lengthy, silvery bangs away from his eyes, he had befriended a new patient a year into his stay at Evergreen, and perhaps, it was that very patient who had kept the old Hatake's mind from dwindling.

_Naruto Uzumaki:_ his only source of intelligent conversation, basic socialization and a string of sanity in the sea of madness.

Had the lack of oxygen during Sakumo's attempted hanging not given the fifty-two year old mild cognitive issues, he would've remembered how each time he spoke to Naruto he had wanted to ask Jiraiya for a background check on the boy. The eighteen-year old male schizophrenic held an air of familiarity that Sakumo had been suckered into the first time with speaking to the withdrawn-looking patient upon their first meeting last year. Naruto looked familiar too, _- achingly so -_ that each time he looked at that dandelion-mop of blonde hair and blue eyes his brain sputtered out the name of an old, deceased family-friend and fellow enforcer of Konoha city law, Minato Namikaze. Even that rare surname _– Uzumaki –_ which Sakumo muttered softly to himself in a hissed reprimand over forgetting (once _again_) to mention the boy to Jiraiya again rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, as if he had already known someone with that surname but couldn't place a first name or face to the title.

Yet after a few months, Sakumo had shrugged off the irksome feeling of anger at his forgetfulness and settled with leaving Naruto be, knowing that the short young man wouldn't appreciate Sakumo getting the Captain of Konoha's police force, Jiraiya, to delve into personal files. Nonetheless, over the past year since Naruto's placement in the adult mental health facility, Sakumo had found himself treating the boy as a pseudo-son of sorts.

It was difficult not to, really, everything about the blonde screamed the need for _attention_, _care_ and…it had tugged painfully at Sakumo's paternal heartstrings something wicked. No matter how many times he reminded himself that Naruto Uzumaki was a young man _– a man nearing the age of nineteen in a matter of weeks –_and not some helpless child, it failed.

One look at that shorter than average stature, mature yet still slightly rounded (and oddly scarred) face, wide (incredibly, shockingly bright) blue eyes and overall immature behavior contradicted the damaged youth's official age. There was nothing wrong with Uzumaki mentally aside from his diagnosed mental illness of _schizophrenia,_ the man-child of sorts was as cunning as a fox yet far more loyal than any dog Sakumo had came to raise and managed to hold all the eloquence of a politician, something which would put Konoha's leader, Sarutobi, to shame.

Like right now, as Sakumo fumbled with his spectacles and slid them up his nose for a clearer view, he spotted Naruto hovering by an orderly and a small food cart. The inept, enigmatic yet astonishingly charming blonde-haired male was sneakily swiping yoghurts from the tray, all the while blabbering enthusiastically and distracting the brunette male. Sakumo tried not to laugh at the sight and wait patiently for his currently on-pause game of chess with Naruto to continue when said boy returned from his newest retrieval mission of some sort.

So, the aging Hatake folded his hands and watched Naruto: The teen stood clad in the usual attire of pyjamas (like everyone else here but the workers) which consisted of the personally-picked variety as opposed to the standard, white flannel pyjamas and navy-blue robe and matching slippers some patients donned by Evergreen due to lacking family/friends/funds for something else. Sakumo always wondered how Naruto had came into the possession of the large orange t-shirt and childishly designed gray pyjama pants that contained a handful of frolicking green frogs.

He could only assume that it was the orderly _– Iruka Umino – _who Naruto was currently talking to who had purchased Naruto's minor items due to the fact the teen had no phone calls or visitors at all. In fact, if Sakumo strained his memory, he was certain Naruto had mentioned only having a mother, a mother who had died when the boy had been merely seven and thrust into various foster-homes.

_'Yeah, he did say that, Naruto did say he had no family,'_ Sakumo nodded to himself in silent reassurance, his dark eyes squinting as he cursed his faulty cognitive issues. _'And, and…'_ his brain continued to spark, information surfacing (albeit foggy and forcing a headache to bloom but foggy )as he narrowed his eyes at the object peeking out of the deep pockets of Naruto's standard, navy blue robe_. 'And that's why he carries that toy around like a lost child, because his unknown father had won it at a fair and gave it to his mother during their first date.'_

Content with remembering yet unhappy with the headache such simple recollection of Naruto's personal rambles had caused, Sakumo pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed. He breathed heavily for a few moments, regulating the sudden migraines pang of pain with controlled breathing and a rough scrub of his forehead. It was stupid really how these headaches would happen during the most pathetic attempts of remembering basically told information, after all, right now he had just caused such a ache to try and recall the origins of Naruto's scruffy, one-button eyed and practically flattened toy fox.

_'Kakashi would laugh at me,'_Sakumo smirked softly, half-hoping that he would hear his son's laughter soon. The young man had became overly serious since his suicide and Sakumo had yet to hear the joyous rumble of contentment from the younger Hatake. He could always remember how much Kakashi would laugh as a child, that high-pitched ringing sound that eased the elder's shoulders and managed to make a stressful day at working at Konoha's police force melt away with ease.

_'He'll laugh soon, I'll see him happy again,'_ the man inwardly promised.

Because this time _- this time -_ he wouldn't be a burden to his son, he would never do something _so_ stupid as to try and take his life, _again_. Of course, those dark thoughts moved like tendrils across his brain now and then, all but trying to burrow into his mind, but he swept them away and stopped such a negative, dreary mindset from being implanted again. Things would be different, it had been a long stretch of two-years but it had been for the better: he was a new man, a _stronger _man, a_ happier_ man.

''Sakumo-papa,'' a joyous titter of familiar amusement caught his attention, and he smiled – again – from both Naruto's dubbed nickname and the wide, pearly-white grin he was being sent. ''I do hope you like apricot yoghurt!''

''I do, Naruto,'' the older male admitted softly. ''But you know you shouldn't take things, you'll get in trouble again.''

''Psh!'' the blonde rolled his eyes, giving a careless shrug of his slightly broad shoulders, ''Just food.''

Aged skin crinkling around his eyes in continued amusement, Sakumo watched Naruto clamber onto the chair opposite him, chessboard and its wooden pieces wobbling dangerously when the whisker-scarred man accidently butted his knee against the table between them. Naruto sent him a sheepish smile but didn't stop arranging himself, his hands delving into the pockets of his robe (first removing the prized toy fox to lay in a heap by the chessboard) before shoving hands down into his pajama pants and into a pair of boxer briefs. Sakumo could only raise a silvery eyebrow, ready to assume that maybe Naruto wasn't having a 'good day' medication-wise due to the odd shuffling before him.

That is, until he caught sight of what the blonde was retrieving from the inside of his pants…yoghurt pots.

And promptly chuckled, ''I hope they're not warm.''

Naruto snorted pathetically in attempt of reeled-in humor, wanting nothing more than to throw his head back and laugh louder than life despite Sakumo-papa's off-hand comment not being entirely the funniest joke in the world. But it was a bad habit of Naruto's the urge to laugh _– albeit hysterically – _over simple things that tickled him, and Iruka had so kindly (on many occasions) told him to 'tone it down a bit.'

Regardless, the blonde peeled off the lid of his favorite flavor yoghurt _- strawberry -_ and slicked the shiny foil before reaching across the table and placing a variation of hijacked flavors _- banana, apricot, and raspberry –_ in front of his best friend and only father-like figure he had experienced in his life before, Sakumo. He earned an approving, comforting smile from the man and Naruto scratched nervously at scarred cheek, his throat feeling tight at the thought the long-haired man would be leaving this place soon…

Shaking himself, Naruto forced a grin onto his face and swallowed that horrible lump in his throat before rocking a little forward in his chair – once, twice, three times – before settling himself completely and dipping a finger in his strawberry yoghurt.

''I forgot spoons,'' the blonde mumbled, uneasy blue eyes regarding Sakumo. ''Sorry.''

''If you'd put them were you put the yoghurts, I doubt I'd be using them anyway,'' the Hatake murmured, amusement laced heavily in his gravelly tone. ''Besides,'' he added with a chuckle, peeling off his own yoghurt lid and dipping his pale finger in, ''I forget a lot more than simply spoons.''

The Uzumaki nodded, knowing that the older male was merely making light of his own condition, it was something even Naruto did himself. After all, it was far much easier to laugh at yourself than have others laugh at you and Naruto couldn't help adding his own two ryō in:

''I'll make the trees remind me about spoons next time.''

Reaching across with his unoccupied hand, Sakumo ruffled the blonde mess that was Naruto's hair. Not all people, therapists included, would've approved of their bluntly honest yet morbid humor about being the dubbed 'mentally ill' or as Naruto liked to call himself (in a far less politically correct manner) as the 'loons, crazies or psychos,' but it didn't matter. He and Naruto didn't really care though, and if Iruka Umino's soft words of praise were anything to go by, Sakumo had been a positive influence upon the schizophrenic.

_'I wonder if he's committed full time or temporarily based,'_Sakumo pondered, watching Naruto glaring at the chess board, clearly checking that he hadn't moved any pieces since departure._ 'He's of the legal age of an adult, so Naruto could easily discharge himself from here…assuming he's not here for lawful reasons.'_

It was only then, with watching the boy-like man seated across from him, that Sakumo knew he wanted to take the hopelessly damaged young man home with him. It was saddening, really, to see such a bright mind – no matter how unstable – being locked up away in a place which contained barely any mental stimulation other than a TV and unused board games. After all, Sakumo was certain if it had not been for Naruto's arrival last year he would've ended up like one of the listless, lethargic patients seated by the glow of the TV…and the idea of leaving Naruto in an environment made him gut twist with guilt.

''Hey, Sakumo-papa…''

The soft, worrisome tone snapped the elder out of his stilled state. He caught sight of Naruto's furrowed brow of suspicion and concern and felt like wilting on the spot.

''Is…'' the blonde stalled, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, ''I mean, you okay?''

''Of course,'' the Hatake said cheerfully, albeit mildly false. ''Just looking at your mug covered in yoghurt, honesty, are you going to be nineteen soon or nine?''

''Heheh.''

Sakumo didn't think twice about digging into the breast pocket of his dark, pinstriped pyjamas to retrieve a handkerchief. Out of sheer paternal instinct which he would've done for his own son – despite Kakashi recently turning twenty-eight this September – he leaned forward and mopped it at Naruto's face, earning another one of those confused yet wary expressions which involved blue eyes turning into slits and a nose that wrinkled. He bit his tongue to stop a bubble of laughter escaping, being mindful over how he didn't want to niggle the blonde's hyper-conscious suspicion of being mocked in some sort of misjudged, cruel manner. Regardless, upon pulling back and placing the pink smudged handkerchief onto the table, the flaxen-haired man offered a smile before informing the scruffy young adult of something he had only just noticed upon closer inspection.

''You need to ask Iruka for another shave,'' Sakumo explained, watching Naruto pat at his rounded (and now clean) jaw line with a pout. ''You're bum fluff is growing back…''

''I-It's not bum-fluff!'' Naruto shrieked, orderlies giving a flinch of alertness and the more, less zombie-like patients staring their way. ''It's my _facial hair_, old man,'' the blonde continued, sounding more haughty as he ran a tanned finger down his scarred cheek, running it across the downy, barely noticeable yet mildly darker than the hair on his head that occupied the sides of his jaw and a little on the cheeks.

''Don't be so defensive,'' the older male grumbled half-heartedly, rather missing his affectionate title as _Sakumo-papa_ as opposed to the huffed lower-rank of _old man_. ''If it means anything, Naruto, my Kakashi couldn't grow a full beard till he was twenty-two, yet I, on the other hand, had to shave every other day since I turned eighteen.''

''Hmmph.''

Shaking his head at the immature action, Sakumo watched Naruto pick up a chess piece – a knight – and place it on its destined square upon the half-cracked wooden board. Sakumo made his own move as well, silence drifting between them over the back and forth action of game play until he felt Naruto's blue eyes flittering up towards him, no doubt not enjoying the silence. So, after capturing Naruto's rook, Sakumo decided to follow the usual, every day routine of an afternoon when in Naruto's company and talked about the one thing which brightened those blue eyes and made Sakumo feel far lighter: _Kakashi._

While Naruto hadn't had the pleasure of meeting his son (the blonde often had therapy during the weekends Kakashi rarely showed up) that didn't stop the boy from enjoying the vast amount of rambles that spilled from the elder Hatake's mouth about his son.

Sakumo was certain that _- should Kakashi ever need an autobiography about himself – _Naruto could retell each story about the youngest Hatake. For some reason, Naruto became enthralled with numerous tales, be it Sakumo's blurry memory of recollection of Kakashi's humorous childhood antics or the more sombre, down-to-earth events like the whole reason why Sakumo was still alive due to the fact his live-at-home son had returned home early from a meeting.

''Have I told you about the time when he was six, wearing his late-mother's heels?''

_Yes_ had been on the tip of Naruto's tongue. Yes, he had heard that story – fifteen times and counting, in fact – and still found it as funny as the first time. But Sakumo had appeared to have forgotten, once again, and Naruto could only let his grin stretch from ear to ear as he shook his head, indicating a lie of _'no' _before focusing completely on Sakumo's rough, gravelly yet fatherly tone as the man recited the story.

''Okay, so, I come home from work, I've left him with a babysitter and…''

Naruto half-listened to the rest and half-day dreamed about Kakashi Hatake.

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><p>Jiraiya leaned back in the heavily padded armchair that resided in the small room of the Evergreen hospital's visitor-patient quarters. It was a simple room, filled with a handful of coffee tables and plush armchairs that contained a large glass sliding door into the view of the courtyard. During summer or spring it was a beautiful sight, one of cherry blossom trees or lush, well-trimmed shrubbery, but right now in the dreary, late-September weather, it looked pretty miserable out there with all the heavy rain and chilly wind. The aging police Captain was more than grateful that this visit to Evergreen Psychiatric Hospital was going to be this last due to the fact his brother-in-arms would be released from the terrible antiseptic-reeking place in a matter of days.<p>

It was, by far, the greatest weight off his shoulders to see Sakumo back to his old self.

Sure, the lanky male held a jittery air of nerves about him from time to time, but Jiraiya would've been worried if his friend _hadn't_ of experienced a small change of personality after all the medication, time and therapy. Besides, looking at the man seated across him, grinning ear-to-ear while using the end of his robe to clean his spectacles, Jiraiya resisted the urge to boisterously pull the Hatake into another hug.

_'If only Minato could see you now,'_ the writer inwardly hummed, his own grin continuing to grow as he listened to Sakumo's animated tell of recent events within the house of crazies. _'You're far cry from the shell of a man you had became, Sakumo, my friend.'_

The Namikaze had witnessed the tumbling fall from grace as Sakumo became depressed yet died before seeing the worst or recovery and…Jiraiya wrung his hands briefly at the thought of his adoptive son. He urged the painful twinge of loss in his chest away and summoned a smile twice as big on his face. It was somewhat bitter-sweet when recalling Minato and his early death at the age of twenty-two.

It felt like only the other day Jiraiya had been young and fresh faced upon Konoha's police force when he had showed up at that particular crime scene by the docks, found the four year old Minato Namikaze and swooped the boy under his wing. Tsunade had called him crazy, Sakumo had nodded with understanding and the collection of present officers had said he had been getting too involved. But regardless of such, Jiraiya had found himself adopting a tot and knowing nothing about child-rearing. Thank goodness for Tsunade and her pity for brats – his old classmate _(and senior surgeon at Konoha's leading hospital) _had unwilling became Minato's mother of sorts and unknowingly aided Jiraiya far more than necessary.

That help had been a blessing, really…or more like fate, Jiraiya's inner romantic crowed happily upon considering how Tsunade had slipped out of her mourning from her old lover Dan and eventually, with time and a sunshine haired toddler, fallen for Jiraiya. Not that she would admit to such a thing, Tsunade had been dating him for a good time span, yet she still refused to marry him. Nonetheless, both she and Jiraiya often spent their evenings sipping sake and wondering (with a mix of both happiness and sadness) over what the promising young man _– their son, not by blood but by bond, -_ could've accomplished had tragic death not taken him away so soon.

Sighing a little while half-listening to Sakumo with a soft smile, Jiraiya rested his elbow upon the arm of the chair and cradled the side of his face with his large hand. He felt a little bad for not listening entirely to his best friend, his musings once again distracting him as opposed to the sight of an attractive female orderly passing by. So, with a mildly guilty grin and a small jolt of confusion, Jiraiya leaned a little more forward in his chair to check if he had heard the last comment correctly.

''What?'' popped out of the Captain's mouth instantly. ''Did you just…?''

The continued question trailed off and died upon Jiraiya's lips due to his complete disbelief.

While not entirely listening to Sakumo, that did not mean he didn't have a clue what the other male had been joyously talking about. He knew that the Hatake had been talking about a particular patient he had befriended _(Naruto was his name, if Jiraiya recalled correctly from the numerous times he heard about the young, committed man)_ but he really must've misheard. After all, Sakumo had sounded _so positive, so sure, so certain_ that is was positively ridiculous and Jiraiya must've been turning _senile_ because there was _no way_ in hell did that man say –

''I want to take him home with me,'' Sakumo repeated, a deadpan expression in place, ''But like I said, I know bits about his life and who he is as a person but I don't know the boy's legal standing. I mean, is he committed here or…?''

Jiraiya sputtered an interjection, grateful the room was empty aside from them. ''You…You _can't_ treat people like puppies, Sakumo!''

''I don't see how that makes Naruto a puppy,'' the ex-officer grumbled, eyebrows drawn together. ''He's a good kid, that's all I'm saying, it's sad to see him rot away in here if he doesn't _have_ to be here.''

It took every ounce of willpower not to slap the other male upside head, but somehow, Jiraiya prevailed. Instead he could only gape and stare – really, _really_ stare – at his old friend, a sinking realization slowly dawning upon him: Sakumo _was _healthy, Sakumo _was_ back-to-normal, Sakumo _was _being deadly serious…and happened to be back to his old tricks again. Jiraiya let out a groan, swiftly digging the heel of his hand onto his forehead as he tried to get a grasp onto the situation, his newly recuperated family-friend was seriously thinking of taking-in some wayward patient.

_'A patient that he didn't know was committed legally or here or temporarily based,'_ Jiraiya's brain sneered. _'A patient who was dubbed a 'good kid' who could've been a mass murderer for all they knew.'_

''Augh,'' Jiraiya huffed explosively, ''Not this shit, again!''

It was happening again, Sakumo had grown attached to something (this time someone) and wanted to take it home. There was a reason why the Hatake owned eight hounds, after all, and it wasn't down to him just being a simple dog-lover. The man had been the leader of the K-9 department within Konoha's police force during his active career, being by far the most notable dog-handler and cadaver-dog trainer going. But dogs held such short careers within the force and Sakumo had ended up sweeping the hounds home with him over the passing years when the deemed unworthy or of retirement age.

''You would like Naruto, he's a sweet kid,'' Sakumo protested weakly while Jiraiya shot him a half-hearted scowl.

''Good kid, sweet kid,'' Jiraiya repeated with a wave of his hand, ''I don't care. You can't just take someone out of a facility they have been placed in, and I'm certain your darling Kakashi would agree.''

Bringing Kakashi's opinion into it (especially when his son wasn't here to physically and verbally side with Jiraiya) was a slight low-blow. Sakumo knew that his son's godfather knew how much he regarded his son's word, even back when Kakashi had been a preteen, Sakumo would kowtow to his prodigy child's opinions. It was only when Kakashi had become a haughty teenager when Sakumo became a tad strict and set the precocious boy in his rightful place. But still, that mutual respect and wishful hope of gaining his son's approval lingered. Although, maybe even more so since his attempted suicide, the need to appease and apology for his actions still heavily weighing on the majority of Sakumo's actions when involving his son.

''But he is,'' the Hatake responded, his previous frown sharpening considerably. ''And don't be so patronizing, I know I can't just remove him, I was merely stating how I would wish to.''

''Well keep wishing and focus on yourself, last thing you need is stress,'' Jiraiya grumbled.

Nudging his glasses further up his face, Sakumo knew his friend was looking out for him, fear of a relapse from all this progress. However, in all honesty, Naruto had been the final process of healing during this past year, he doubted the teen knew it, but Sakumo found the blonde completely therapeutic. But still, after working his jaw and attempting not to rise to Jiraiya's gruff way of concern, he opened his mouth to retort calmly until he felt a flicker of a memory. It was a forgotten thought of importance, one in which Sakumo had been trying to grasp upon the majority of the time when meeting up with Jiraiya but his cognitive issues failed him.

And so, with widening eyes and a mental flash of Minato's blonde mop, tanned skin and distinctive blue eyes dashing through his brain like a bolt of lightning, Sakumo rushed his words in fear of forgetting:

''But, Jiraiya, you should meet him, he looks so much like your –''

A loud bang cut off his hurriedly flustered piece of information, instantly making the pair of grown men flinch and swing their heads in the direction of the noise which happened to be the large, sliding glass doors.

''Minato,'' tumbled out of Jiraiya's stunned lips.

The police Captain found his eyes riveted upon that eerily familiar shade of blonde hair that occupied atop a stranger's head. It took a few blinks to stop staring, especially when catching the sight of ocean-colored blue eyes, but Jiraiya felt like recoiling from it all. This stranger _– a stunted boyish-looking male –_ appeared to have all but slammed up against the rain-slicked glass of the doors, undoubtedly being the source of this ruckus. But this boy was not his Minato, even with the glass fogging up from the strange blonde's pressed-up position against the glass; Jiraiya could see the details which instantly segregated his son in comparison of the young male.

The kid's eyes (although currently looking wild and feral) lacked Minato's almond shape, even the face which held the same tanned skin tone as Minato was far less angular (the stranger's was rounded in shape and held a slight padding of fat, indicating a baby-face of sorts) and held odd, whisker-like scars. Yet, after his quick-glanced mental comparison, Jiraiya felt his jaw slackening at a more noticeable feature about the blonde who was grinning madly, slapping his palms against the glass and laughing loudly…

The boy was clad only in a pair of boxer-briefs while standing in the heavy rain and icy wind.

''It's so invigorating!'' the small man bellowed, his voice only slightly muffled by the thick glass, howling wind and unrelenting rain. ''You should come and – _Mmph!_''

Jiraiya gave a wince, eyes still wide as he watched a male orderly appear out of the heavy rain and stumble up against the blonde, accidently nudging the shorter man into smothering himself against the glass. He remained stock still, suddenly realizing that the half-naked adult must've been a patient _- obviously -_ as he caught sight of Sakumo jumping to his slipper-clad feet with all the vigor of a teen. However, before Jiraiya could grasp a hold of his friend's wrist and stop the man getting involved with an obviously more…_difficult_ patient, the bespectacled Hatake had already strode to the doors and slid them open.

A gust of freezing air and a splatter of invading raindrops worked their way into the warm visitor-patient room as the orderly gently prodded and ushered the half-naked blonde into the room. It only took a matter of seconds but Jiraiya suddenly found himself on his feet, feeling on-edge and confused as ever as the orderly _- Umino according to the name tag -_ stood just as soggy as the boxer-clad youth began to yell a little. The disheveled brunette sounded a mix of concern and exhausted frustration, his hands gently checking the blue-eyed male's shivering, goose-pimpled body for injury.

''What do you think you were doing?'' the Umino scolded, albeit a little softer than his previous rant at the still-grinning kid. ''Hey, Uzumaki?''

But Jiraiya only half-listened as the blonde responded in a dreamy sigh about 'answering the call'.

With his brow wrinkling considerably, Jiraiya found himself drawn to the rare surname of _Uzumaki_ in which the boyish man had been addressed as instead of the questioning (or more like figuring out) what this supposed 'call' was. After all, the blonde was a mental patient for a reason, so Jiraiya pushed that aside, his stomach churning uncomfortably as he recalled the only Uzumaki he had met in all of Konoha before: Kushina Uzumaki.

Kushina had happened to be his adoptive son's childhood sweetheart and girlfriend. The red-haired female had been Minato's only and last girlfriend before his death, but she had randomly bailed years before that heart wrenching tragedy. Minato had been heartbroken, which is to be expected when you're eighteen and the world seemed to revolve around your love-interest. Plus, Jiraiya could remember the hurt, confusion and anger his son had expressed over how his seventeen year old girlfriend had merely left you a text message saying 'sorry' and appeared to have vanished from Konoha.

_'It's just wishful thinking, just because he's got Kushina's surname and Minato's coloring means nothing,'_ the Icha-Icha author scolded his wistful mind. _'I'm just getting old, clinging onto memories and foolish hope.'_

_'Besides, despite having me as a ladies' man,'_ Jiraiya gave a sniff, a wry smirk pulling at his features, '_Minato couldn't have bedded Kushina if he tried; he was far too complacent with just being beside her…silly man.'_

''I'm going to get towels,'' the dripping brunette explained, cutting off Jiraiya's musings while edging closer to the door which led towards the corridor. It was obvious the man was uneasy with leaving the patient here, but Jiraiya was impressed that the orderly did just that and left after a final comment, ''Stay put, Naruto.''

_'Oh,'_ Jiraiya couldn't help stiffening at the thought this shivering; half-naked Uzumaki was the famed 'Naruto' which Sakumo had latched upon. _'Just great,' _the Captain thought with a tugged down frown, _'Trust Sakumo to pick the craziest loon here.'_

''Sa-Sa-'' Naruto appeared to be trying to greet his fellow patient via teeth-chattering, ''Sakumo-papa, H-hello.''

''Hello to you too, Naruto,'' the Hatake murmured back and Jiraiya watched the interaction intently as his friend removed his navy robe and draped it over the drip-worthy youth. ''Answering to the trees again?'' Sakumo continued, sounding bemused yet softly reprimanding all in one go. ''You've been doing so well ignoring them and you should know better…''

''Brrr!'' Naruto shook himself like a dog, water hitting Jiraiya's forearm, ''It was the wind this time and she was right, it was fun to strip down and climb the oak tree by the west wing.''

Sakumo began to fuss over the boyish-looking man as he would Kakashi and Jiraiya felt his lips twitch with the urge to grin. This Naruto Uzumaki seemed to be more accepting _– maybe even thriving off – _over Sakumo's clingy, fatherly actions…actions which Kakashi would shuck off and glare about. Not that Jiraiya could blame his silver-haired godson, the recently turned twenty-eight year old had shown a reluctance to move out (even during his college years) from the family home but that didn't mean he enjoyed being treated like a child.

Nonetheless, Jiraiya had long ago accepted the youngest Hatake as being a hopelessly minded bachelor of sorts. Frequently, especially during Sakumo's downfall (and the aftermath of the elder's suicide attempt) Jiraiya often swung by in a casual manner, be it to subtly check up on the Hatake duo or – in the case of the past two years – drop off groceries. After all, Kakashi was a mildly reclusive author, showing no other passion in life aside from his work or reading Jiraiya's own Icha-Icha series.

However, the sound of Sakumo's gravelly yet friendly tone and Naruto's lighter chirrup that held the grumble that came with age became nothing more than background noise as the two conversed. It was odd though, to see the young blond speaking so coherently about listening to the wind and Sakumo taking it all in his stride like the two were discussing sports. But with his old friend's lack of crowding and continued fussing over Naruto, Jiraiya was able to continue with scrutinizing the young man until something more interesting caught his attention - a ratty looking fox plush that lay in a puddle upon the linoleum floor by Naruto's feet.

Jiraiya would've shrugged off the sight of the diseased-looking toy, that is, had he not recalled seeing the exact plaything he had spotted many, many years ago in the arms of a fifteen year old Kushina Uzumaki. Sure, fox toys weren't uncommon and the plush before him could've been _any_ childhood toy, but Jiraiya distinctively recalled having _this_ particular style of fox toy (although, back then, it held chubby plushness and two shiny button eyes) being shoved under his nose by a boisterous red-head who all but bragged about Minato's awesome skills at the local fair. He was still ready to brush aside such a coincidence and nostalgia when he spotted the faded, permanent marker upon the underside of the flat, half-gnawed tail.

The writing style was beyond familiar, it was the same teenager scrawl he had witnessed upon Minato's notebook or Kushina's backpack. And even though the writing was worn, those two simple letters and lone number remained glaringly clear against the sunburnt orange of the fox: M4K.

_M4K_, was not some equation or foolish band name, but happened to be more fully known as, Minato for Kushina. Call it curiosity, but _maybe, _Jiraiya would just take a peek into the strange yet familiar young man's file.

Jiraiya, however, did tell himself that such an action of research would be for Sakumo's benefit and not for his own, selfish desire of hope over having this Minato-esque boy's presence.

* * *

><p><strong>Edit:1312/11.** **added an extra 3kwords to balance out futures chapters. [roughly 6k per chap]**


	2. 0:2

**A/N:** Added roughly _3k on the previous chappy_ to balance things out (6/7k per chap word count) so sorry if you need to go and re-read the second added part... BUT YEAH!  
>Hope you had a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday (and have a good New Year!)<p>

:]]]

* * *

><p><strong>0.2<strong>

* * *

><p>Eyes feeling raw and gritty, Kakashi Hatake wheeled himself backwards upon his black leather office chair and further away from the bright glow of his desktop monitor. It was the early hours of morning and he felt exhausted (mentally and physically) with eyeballs borderline ready to roll out of his skull, his aching spine and the joints of his fingers cramping. It was stupid really, to feel so drained from an all-nighter of merely tapping away at the keyboard when he hadn't physically partaken in strenuous activity of any sort. But,<em> shit<em>, zero sleep and concentration on full power certainly made the Hatake feel like he had been dragging boulders up a steep hill.

_'Never again,' _the young man internally cursed. _'Never again am I leaving something like this till last-minute again.'_

Although, with that being said, Kakashi knew full well it was a lie. He might've loved his work of being a writer _- deeply so –_ due to the freedom and the fact he could live out silent fantasies or let his creativity run wild. But he also happened to be a notoriously lazy man who handed in the manuscripts for his latest book or short-story article in a magazine far too late for his editor, Genma Shiranui's, liking. It was a good thing the wisecracking, tooth-pick gnawing editor was so calm despite Kakashi's constant skimming of just barely meeting deadlines – just like right now, really. The silver-haired man had just emailed the final result off to Genma after literally spending under twenty-four hours hammering away at his keyboard and yanking ideas out of his head for a short, boy's love story for one of the many magazines he freelanced for.

But now it was finally done _– complete, finished, closed, fucking-done-with-for-good! –_ and now Kakashi could just…_collapse_.

Well, not straight away, he really had to remove his numb feeling ass from his chair and forage for some food before even thinking of giving in to exhaustion.

So, with a jaw-achingly wide yawn, the young Hatake peeled himself from his chair and stretched _– spine popping, neck cracking, cartilage grinding –_ before lumbering out of his modest office and into one of the short corridors of his family home. He held back a groan, the bright, natural light which his office blinds had shielded him from was now spilling from the hallway windows in watery blue streaks and irritating his tired eyes. Blindly, Kakashi shuffled down the short corridor that occupied his office, large bathroom and his father's master bedroom before his sock-clad feet skidded slightly underneath him on the dark, polished wood as he rounded a corner and into the large, main hallway. It didn't take long to ease himself around the staircase and slink past the doorframe which contained the living room, pure determination and hunger driving him in the direction of remaining wooden archway, hinting the location of the kitchen-diner.

Kakashi managed to stumble over the threshold, the chill of kitchen tiles seeping through his socks and onto his soles before catching the glorious sight of the refrigerator. He raised his arms as if meeting a long lost friend and wasted no time yanking open the door, all but reveling in the sight of fully stocked shelves while sending silent thanks to the only man (who was more of a family-member really) that owned a spare key and happened to be his godfather – Jiraiya. For once, he didn't mind the old pervert's intrusion due to the amount of food in front of him and happily began to gather his arms full of everything and anything which could be eaten on sight and required zero cooking or prep, he was far too hungry.

Heck, the young, silver-haired author was so hungry he settled himself upon the floor and lazily devoured celery sticks while rifling through a packet of store-bought sushi.

No matter how much he griped about his godfather and father's co-worker at the police department – Kakashi _did_ like Jiraiya. The towering, broad shouldered Captain of police had been around since he had been small and was, in fact, the main reason why Kakashi had taken up his passion for writing for a career as opposed to following in his manic depressive father's footsteps into serving Konoha. Jiraiya did, after all, write a handful of smutty romance novels on the side of his police work. Yet, although smutty yet humorous, Jiraiya's famed Icha-Icha Paradise wasn't anything like Kakashi's work…the main difference being _– to put it as bluntly yet crudely as possibly -_ Jiraiya was a breast man and Kakashi was all about the cocks.

Nonetheless of their different writing genres (hetero verses gay) the aging Captain managed to always be there when Kakashi needed him. Even when his father, Sakumo, had attempted suicide, Jiraiya hadn't shunned or resented his father's cowardly actions - unlike Kakashi, who had spent the better half of a few months filled with horror and anger, completely unable to look at his (at the time) heavily medicated father in the eye. In fact, Kakashi still felt awkward when seeing his father, unsure as to how to treat him and settled with letters or phone calls, knowing full well his father wouldn't entirely like his son treating him like fragile glass.

But Sakumo was _so much more_ breakable than glass to Kakashi; the older man was like damp rice paper, ready to tear apart with the slightest wrong movement. He feared for his father: no matter how many years it had been since his commitment at Evergreen or the positive reports from doctors or the cheery attitude his father spoke in.

Yet spiraling thoughts and his hunger pangs coming to an end, a click of claws against tiles hinted the approach of one of the many hounds which occupied the Hatake family home caught Kakashi's attention. He peered up from his food stared at the kitchen counters which blocked his floor view of the other side of the kitchen. The other side contained the dining part of the room and a door which led into a utility room which housed all eight of his dog's beds and a few supplies, but from his slumped position upon the floor, Kakashi had to wait. After a few beats though, Kakashi blinked tiredly at the sight of Pakkun _- the eldest hound who happened to be a tiny, arthritic pug -_ waddling towards him from around the counters, no doubt happy for some human company as opposed to the seven other canines.

So, giving in to indulge the grumpy pug, Kakashi scooped Pakkun up in his lap while managing to hold off another yawn, his hands mussing up the wrinkly dog's little ears. The young Hatake smiled sleepily as he rested his back against the comforting hum of the fridge, all but promising to be more vigilant for his only parent this time around. He had been purposely focusing on a new BL novel, hoping to get the planning and bulk out of the way so he would have more free time during his father's return, but such a plan had failed and inspiration seemed willing to come to him. It was so odd, really, that it was only over the past week of nervous trepidation over his father's return had the mind-searing images of his father's suicide attempt returned with a vengeance.

Kakashi all put it down to mild stress; although the actual event had happened two years ago it seemed so fresh in his mind that he doubted he would ever get rid of the sounds, sights and smells he had encountered upon discovering his father. Still, with a hefty sigh and an insuppressible shiver at the mental image of that purpling face, burst-blood vessel eyes and sickening gurgle, Kakashi murmured softly to the snuffling pug in his lap:

''I'll be bringing Dad home come Monday, Pakkun. You just keep an eye out for him with me, hm?''

* * *

><p>Shizune liked to think she was a reasonable, calm and in-control woman, especially when placed in comparison of her old medical mentor, Tsunade. She was less of a medical implementer now-a-days, her work revolving around holding down the fort and doing far too much paperwork at her leading role at Evergreen. But right now, seated in her cramped little office and dealing with a mountain of a perverted man rifling through her previously well-organized patient files did test her tolerance. How her old mentor could deal with the man on a daily basis, Shizune didn't know, but she certainly could understand why Tsunade spent most of her free time sipping sake or gambling on online poker.<p>

''Can I help you?'' the black haired female tried not to grit her teeth, the sight of Jiraiya carelessly tossing a manila folder aside only to gather another. ''Because if this is about Sakumo's release forms they're all ready to go for his discharge tomorrow…''

''It's fine, I found it,'' the large man crowed, waving a particularly thick folder in the air. ''And for once, I'm not here to pester you about that old loon of mine.''

Now_ that_ got Shizune's attention, especially since Jiraiya only ever stepped into this psychiatric hospital for the sake of visiting his old police comrade. In fact, the young woman could recall the number of phone calls he had gained from both Jiraiya and Sakumo's son, quite frequently questioning for her opinion on the manic-depressive's progress. After all, she was fairly certain the only reason Sakumo had been placed in Evergreen to begin with was due to being a trusted family-friend. Well, that and the obviously glaring reason it was highly appraised for quality and care of patients, be they temporary or full-time. Yet, having Jiraiya physically in her office and practically destroying it in a whirlwind of seemingly frantic search made Shizune raise an eyebrow.

So, as Jiraiya flung himself down in her chair and made himself comfy with violating a patient's confidentiality, Shizune tried to salvage her tidy office. She had managed to clear her desk and place a handful of files into the correct filing cabinets as the self-proclaimed 'super pervert' began to spread out the contents of the bulky file. Although not liking the illegal sight of patient confidentiality being ruined, Shizune knew that there was always method behind Jiraiya's madness and offered to leave the man be. As long as the Captain didn't brag about whatever findings he was wishing to gather, all would be fine, and Shizune wouldn't mind aiding the irksome pervert. However, it was only when pausing in her tidying-spree and peering over the older man's shoulder, she found herself _extremely curious_ at the sight of Jiraiya meticulously going through this particular patient's folder.

Like right now, Jiraiya's large hands held the slightest tremor as he handled her most recent patience's birth certificate. _Naruto Uzumaki_, Shizune read over his broad shoulder and squinted at the print, _father: unnamed, mother: Kushina Uzumaki, D.O.B: 10th October…_

Shizune made a small noise at the back of her throat, suddenly recalling the patient who had joined them almost a year ago. She tried to involve herself with all her patients (even if it was just that spur-of-the-moment introductory chat) and often made a point of making sure they were receiving the correct treatment from the employed staff of orderlies, doctors and therapists. Out of them all, (aside from personally knowing Sakumo) she had to admit she held a little soft spot for the diagnosed schizophrenic upon first meeting him.

Naruto held such an adorable (such a rare trait in a late teen) but charmingly nice quality that Shizune had smiled the whole way through their little meet-and-greet chat. Admittedly, she had only scanned the surprisingly heavy file, but the small snifters of highlighted information had shocked her, be it the transcripts of past therapy sessions or the photocopied reports from Social Services. It wasn't that Naruto was dangerous, oh no, the youth had only had one violent incident to account for and that was almost six years ago during his early teens.

The reason Naruto was institutionalization came down to the boy's lack of self-care and occasional life-threatening excursions due to the delusions he held. However, the young man had made amazing strides and improvement that he happened to be one of the best patients Shizune had ever had. But all that was explained in that folder in Jiraiya's hands: it held_ all_ of Naruto's medical and personal history in a mishmash of written reports and a small handful of ID photos from over the youth's span under state psychiatric care.

Although, the young woman couldn't help but worry over Jiraiya's intentions for suddenly reading Naruto's file and half-hoped it had nothing to do with the man's police work. But before she could ask, Jiraiya had stopped counting on his fingers _(working out dates? A time span? She didn't know, it was counting,)_ and glaring at the birth certificate to move his serious expression onto her.

''Can he be released at any time?''

''Um,'' Shizune blinked, taken aback by the question. ''Yeah, from his last mental evaluation Naruto has been re-offered to enter a half-way house or discharge himself,'' she stated, only to find Jiraiya tilting his shaggy head of white hair, urging her to explain. ''Uzumaki is eighteen, almost nineteen, Jiraiya. He only got transferred here upon turning eighteen because he's classed as an adult yet refused to discharge himself. He's on the right meds and sometimes his schizophrenic symptoms fall into remission or they remain toned down like now…sure, he causes a little ruckus around here, but he's never escaped or harmed anyone.''

''_Sooo,_'' Jiraiya drawled the word, obviously not soaking up what she had explained. ''He can leave, just like –'' he snapped his calloused fingers, ''- _that?_''

''Yes, but he'd still need to be under moderate surveillance like most of our discharged patients, just to check they're coping well.''

''Huh, I see.''

And with that, the Captain fell silent, his dark eyes latched upon the collection of papers as Shizune shifted nervously. It was only after several beats and a rustle of dog-eared paper that Jiraiya finally spoke up again, his usually jovial and loud voice dulled with apprehension.

''Shizune, do you have any of this kid's blood I can swipe?''

Dubiously, the young woman questioned, ''Why…?''

''To ease my old mind.''

''If you're looking for a scapegoat for an unclosed case…'' Shizune trailed off upon suddenly receiving a dark glare from the man.

Jiraiya huffed like a petulant child, ''Is my last name Uchiha?''

And Shizune laughed, nerves dispelled. There had been a lot of tension over the years in regards of the Konoha's official police force and the privatized enforcement of the U.D.A (Uchiha Defense Agencies) which was a separate yet conflicting law enforcement body that operated in the Nation of Fire. But nonetheless, Shizune eased herself towards the office door and sighed, ''Okay, I'll think about it.''

Only when the office door clicked shut, Jiraiya smiled a little to himself, knowing full well that Shizune's _'think about it'_ always translated into a simple yet wonderful: _Yes_.

Yet such a smile didn't grace Jiraiya's features for long, he currently felt as if he had been gutted and flayed, his head spinning dangerously as he took full advantage of the privacy he now had. So, he stared down at the birth certificate _again_, running the math and calculations through his brain to try and make some sense of it all. Naruto's mother was Kushina _- Minato's Kushina -_ and had been seventeen years of age when she disappeared from Konoha around the month of March while Naruto was born _– prematurely according to these files – _within early October. Now, Jiraiya didn't know where the young woman had gotten to, but it was obvious that she had stayed within the Nation of Fire due to Naruto's citizenship and current location.

This whole event was so mind-boggling; it would be far easier just to wait for Naruto's blood and run a DNA with the sample of Minato's they still had on file back at the station. So, Jiraiya would do just that – he'd wait. But, for the time being, Jiraiya would get himself acquainted with the oddball which Sakumo had taken a liking to. He would do everything in his power to stop his newly released friend to take home a wayward, man-child of an orphan if there was the slightest hint of danger in the Uzumaki's file.

But there was none, not even a sliver.

Okay, there was _one _act of violence back when Naruto had been thirteen and in a mainstream high school. But that particular recount of details involving an unnamed teacher was shaky, like someone had purposely skipped out the obviously important details. Yet aside from the brief yet out-of-character act of driving a scalpel into a biology teacher's hand, Naruto had no other violent events. The kid had been bounced around orphanages or foster families since the marked date of Kushina's death when the boy was seven; it was only after the teacher incident when the youth finally gained some stability. That is, if you could call being committed into a psychiatric facility a form of stability – but the labeled hospital was the longest location Naruto had resided in up until being transferred to Evergreen.

It was the medical history which amazed and shocked Jiraiya, though. According to this particular section of medical notes, Naruto had been misdiagnosed to having mild autism at the tender age of six. That is, until being re-evaluated four years down the line and being finally (and _correctly_) having his symptoms identified correctly as childhood-onset schizophrenia with small hints of OCD in the form of intrusive thoughts.

''Poor brat,'' Jiraiya found himself grumbling, a twinge of pity being aimed towards the young man who he had spotted _– albeit half-naked and soaked –_ earlier in the day and looked so bright, cheery and overly energetic.

Regardless, after flipping through a handful of pages, he finally found an in-depth yet revamped report which had been updated recently. Jiraiya wasted no time reading it, his eyes narrowing and shoulders feeling suddenly far too heavy as he summed up the trials and tribulations the schizophrenic _(that Sakumo had taken a shine to)_ had been through. He summarized the whole hodgepodge of information as simply as possible:

Naruto Uzumaki, currently 18, held a profound connection with nature in regards to his schizophrenia. The wind, the trees, birds and small mammals speak to him - and they all seem to give him lousy, life-threatening advice. From numerous therapy sessions, it had been discovered that thorn bushes told him to take off his clothes and climb barbed-wire fences. The wind had ushered him towards railway lines or trees have urged him to escape foster homes and while (in one highlighted incident) a squirrel had beckoned him into freezing a pond.

It is a wonder, really, that Naruto was still alive.

And it didn't just stop there, and Jiraiya found himself drawn into reading_ – with sick curiosity and utmost fascination - _about Naruto's other life-threatening antics. But perhaps, one which Jiraiya found the most disheartening, had to have been the event about the then-fifteen year old Uzumaki going missing from a local ward for two days, only to be found sitting in a snowdrift, naked, reciting poetry and suffering from frostbite and hypothermia.

There was only one thing Jiraiya could say in a gusted, half-chuckle, ''Fuckin' hell, I bet he knows how to party.''

* * *

><p>''And Shizune's reassured me you'll be just fine.''<p>

''I know.''

''Just keep doing what you've done all these years: take your pills, resist those voices and stay calm.''

''I know.''

''But don't you worry, Naruto, she'll be sending a CPN out to see you within the same week.''

''I kno-'' Naruto stalled, nose wrinkling and tugging his face back from Iruka's caring hands, ''-Wait. A what?''

''Community Psychiatric Nurse,'' Iruka explained softly. ''Now keep still,'' he urged, gently cupping the tanned chin between his thumb and forefinger, attempting to continue with shaving the rest of that downy, poor excuse of facial hair off. ''You'll be doing this for yourself soon, so I hope you've been paying attention.''

Naruto tried not to pout, the cold blade of the razor running smoothly across his face, his blue eyes staring intently at Iruka's focused, brown eyes as the man expertly shaved his face. He had tried _– numerous times –_ to persuade the man into letting him shave his own face, but Iruka remained adamant and said no. Even now, Naruto would be discharging himself after his final tidy-up while Shizune gathered his medication from the pharmacist and tackled some last-minute formalities and paperwork, Iruka said_ no_. It was a little frustrating, having someone do things which you _– thought -_ could do for yourself, but it was _protocol_ and Naruto should've been used to it. Although, technically, Naruto knew he should be grateful for even being allowed to receive a shave and other privileges they had in the recreational room. Especially since his last Psychiatric Hospital was a far cry from the moderately low-maintenance patients at Evergreen.

''Ah, Naruto…'' Iruka's timid tone pulled the blonde out of his lulled, contemplative state. ''Do you - I mean, are you confident about leaving here so short notice?''

Blinking, the blonde remained unsure about Iruka's increased mother-hen attitude and obvious (albeit little) hint of displeasure about him leaving. But nonetheless, Naruto watched the man seated opposite him on the stool in the modest bathroom before focusing on scrubbing at his newly shaven face with a provided, starch white towel. He held mixed feelings about leaving the safety of the Psychiatric Hospital, knowing exactly what type of dangers lay outside and the warnings presented to him in the form of letters, signs or whispers. It was terrifying, especially when he had assumed to be living in the controlled, sterile environment for the rest of his life. But then he had met Sakumo Hatake, and the generous man had presented him with an offer a day or two ago upon realizing Naruto had the privilege of discharging himself.

''Sakumo-papa said I can stay with him,'' Naruto finally responded, his words slightly muffled against the towel he held against his lips. ''And Kakashi,'' he added hurriedly, his mind suddenly sparking with the thrilling reminder. ''Kakashi lives at home, he's nine years older than me and –''

''So you're excited, then?'' Iruka ventured, cutting-off another Kakashi-orientated ramble.

The orderly thanked Sakumo for easing Naruto out of his shell and treating the young man with a parental air of guidance and affection. The blonde obviously craved such interaction, making it glaringly obvious that such an action which was something a younger Naruto never received. But still, Sakumo's stories about his son, Kakashi Hatake, happened to be a completely different issue. The Uzumaki had lapped up the elder Hatake's tales about his gifted son like a dying man seeking a prayer - and that is what made Iruka uneasy.

Naruto viewed Kakashi like a child admired a story-book hero...and Kakashi was no Robin Hood. Iruka had encountered Kakashi Hatake on a few occasions: the young Hatake would have a bored expression and read erotic novels as Iruka led him to the patient-visitor room _– or –_ sound completely droned, blunt and borderline emotionless on the phone when requesting for Shizune or his father.

_'Naruto hasn't even met Kakashi in person and he goes all starry-eyed when just listening to Sakumo talking about that son of his,'_ Iruka's mind hummed in displeasure as Naruto nodded at his previous question, clearly positively ecstatic. _'Naruto's gone and given Kakashi a hero-complex,' _the orderly noted, his hands dropping a towel onto the teen's damp, newly-washed locks. _'Once he realizes how cold, dull and offensive Kakashi is, Naruto'll be disappointed.'_

Mentally shaking away his fretful thoughts for the endearing teen, Iruka safely pocketed the razor blade deep in his pocket and stood up, gathering the now-lukewarm bowl of water and can of shaving cream. He went through the usual motions of tidying up as Naruto remained seated, clad only with a towel around his neck and fresh set of underwear. It was difficult though, especially with seeing Naruto's reflected, hyperactive squirming in the mirror, the boy was literally a bunch of ecstatic nerves and Iruka had tried…really, really tired hinting not to expect much of the youngest Hatake. Yet, Naruto had shrugged it off, leaving the brunette to sigh heavily and deliver reinsurances that at 'any time' to call Shizune's office should he need anything before his CPN's visit later in the week.

Yes, to say Iruka agreed completely with letting Naruto waltz out of Evergreen would be a lie. He had grown attached to the charmingly awkward schizophrenic and would hate to see the young man rush into something, panic and fall into relapse of years of stunning, pill-taking progress. While constantly reminded not to get too attached with patients, Iruka found his will wavering, especially if the youngest Hatake's cold demeanor pushed his prized patient into spiraling downward or backtracking with progress.

* * *

><p>''Maa, you can let go at anytime.''<p>

Kakashi remained boneless, his droned comment being nothing more than an attempt to remind his father to let go from his current embrace. The older Hatake remained unrelenting though, doing nothing more than to give an encouraging squeeze as Kakashi had to swallow the lump forming in his throat. Embraces from his father hadn't always been a mildly awkward event, Kakashi could remember the times of being younger and wanting nothing more than to find himself encircled by those powerful arms. But somewhere down the line_ - as Kakashi became older and the stress of his father's job weighed heavily upon those broad shoulders -_ such wondrous hugs had changed. Soon cheerful under-arm lifts and playful tackles had been exchanged for tight, needy grips, soft sniffles and the lingering scent of whiskey…

But with his father's failed suicide, it appeared the man had reverted into a mix of the fond memories of hugs and the negative.

It was like Sakumo was trying to compensate for past displays of weaknesses, like the memories Kakashi had of being a preteen and _– in the rare occasions his father had encountered a bad case -_ blurrily waking up his pale-haired parent seated at the end of his bed, eyes red-rimmed from spilt tears. In retrospect, Kakashi had allowed the man to pull him into a hug out of sheer confusion, but time, information and understanding had made the younger Hatake realize those saddening moments often revolved around cases involving children, unknowingly hitting home to his single parent who merely sought comfort. Yet maybe even more so, this form of compensation Kakashi was experiencing now, was based solely around his botched attempt of suicide than those small handful of memories.

''Anytime soon, Dad,'' Kakashi urged softly, his hand patting a little firmer upon the elder's back.

''Hah,'' the long-haired male pulled back with a sniff, ''Yes, sorry. I keep forgetting that I'm going home and this isn't a visit.''

''It's -'' Kakashi grunted, his father's overzealous clap on the shoulder disturbing his balance '' – Fine.''

''Better than fine,'' Sakumo added, and Kakashi suddenly found himself being eased down onto one of the overstuffed chairs within the visitor-patient room. ''Things are going to be better than fine,'' the elder continued, taking his own seat opposite him and staring intently into his eyes. ''I'm good now,'' he stressed, a wryly nervous grin overriding his face as he tapped his temple, ''A little forgetful, but I'm good up here.''

''I know, Dad,'' the younger Hatake murmured.

It happened to be a _slight_ lie though – Kakashi wasn't feeling nearly as confident over his father's return home as he was currently trying to portray. Confident about the recuperation, yes, he fully knew his father was 'better than' fine _– a little shaky –_ but fine. After all, the family _home_ had been turned into a _house_ these past two years. It had become a place of shelter, bricks and mortar as opposed to a physical place of love, comfort and safety. The place had been so silent since his father's institutionalization, especially when Kakashi had been used to his father interfering (for his own good) with his work and dragging him out of the house for lunch or asking him to walk the dogs.

''Do you?'' Sakumo urged, his glasses hanging precariously on the end of his nose.

And Kakashi internally crumbled, knowing his father just took one look of his forcefully stretched smile, half-crinkled eyes and saw past the mask and towards the more truthful answer of: _No_.

Kakashi would've explained himself, he would've told his old man that he felt like a jumbled mess of pure excitement and terror over his return home. Sure, he knew that his father was in a _– emotionally – _better place than he had been in years, the man before him now sat with a confident posture and radiant smiles of comfort as opposed to the slumping, dreary half-smiles of the past. But it was difficult to talk of such things, leaving Kakashi to give a heavy exhale and simply let go of his clinging insecurities over his father's return, the whispers of worry tickling the back of his skull dissolving slightly.

He just didn't want to screw up, not for a second time.

Because Kakashi still scolded himself over not paying enough attention to his father's spiral of depression. Be it the lack of sleep (he thought it was a phrase), extra drink of an evening (it was just for relaxation), occasional mood swings (the elder must've been having a stressful day) or the other, more glaringly obvious signs and cries for help. Sure, Kakashi had returned home from a meeting early (by sheer chance) and saved his father's choking, sputtering body – but if his father tried to kill himself again, Kakashi was certain the fates wouldn't be so kind. So it was understandable why the young author felt so tense with apprehension…maybe even more so over his father's sudden idea to bring home a fellow, recently discharged patient called Naruto.

Oh, he had heard of this particular patient before. His father had babbled about a young teen who felt 'so familiar' and had managed to keep his mind active during his last year. Kakashi, however, didn't know how to feel about letting Naruto into his home…but it wasn't his, technically, it was his father's house. So he had no say in the matter, not really. Plus, if his father wanted to busy himself with helping this Naruto as his own source of recovery, then so be it – Kakashi didn't care as long as the young man didn't pester him or depress his father.

''Today is a fresh start,'' his father's gravelly voice interjected Kakashi's silent musings as he suddenly found his father's hands cupping each of his own in a prayer-like gesture. ''Today we start anew, okay? So stop worrying.''

''Maa, yes, Sir,'' Kakashi droned, his lips quirking up in the first genuine smile he had in a long time.

* * *

><p>Naruto walked down the corridor from his session of signing documents and verbal garble of information from Shizune. The sisterly, dark-haired female had apparently gone out of her way (according to Iruka) with filing the correct forms and applying Naruto for some form of social benefits which resulted in a weekly stipend, a stipend he had been entitled to during his youth yet never received. But all that information went out one ear and through the other as he picked at a loose thread on his new clothing which had been purchased for him earlier that morning by Iruka, way before the brunette had given Naruto his shave and small lecture about taking care of himself.<p>

He was going to miss Iruka…

But nonetheless, Naruto physically shook himself, his spiky locks flicking up in their usual unruly hairstyle as he continued walking. He had been told that Sakumo-papa was waiting in the empty visitor-patient room for him and while Naruto wanted to run to the man, he found himself distracted by his new clothes. Iruka had used some of Naruto's disclosed stipend for the items and purposely purchased an orange _– duller than he would've liked, but still orange –_ hooded jacket, black t-shirt and stonewashed jeans. The shirt fitted perfectly, but the jeans hung low enough for Iruka to murmur out loud about wishing to have had brought a belt, but Naruto didn't mind. He hated restrictive clothes, and embraced and large _– yet incredibly fleecy insides of the warm cotton hoodie –_ and loose-fitting jeans, overly content.

But still, as the eighteen year old strolled down the corridor with his minimal belongings on his person _– enveloped pictures of his mother buried jeans pocket and the tattered fox plush stuffed into the jacket's pocket –_ he couldn't stop staring at his feet. Well, it was more or less his laces which his blue eyes remained suckered to. It had been so long since had worn a pair of laced shoes that Iruka had to refresh his mind with tying the laces. After all, since he had been thirteen his footwear consisted solely of slippers or none at all. So, Naruto stared down at those neatly tied strings with interest, his feet continuing to move forward with a slight squeak of rubber meets wooden flooring as the pinkish-gray glow of late afternoon seeped through the windowed corridor that led towards the location Sakumo-papa was waiting for him.

He was about to pick up his pace, excitement bubbling in his veins_ – he'd get to meet Kakashi, he'd get to live in the same house of Kakashi, he'd get to see the house which many of Sakumo's Kakashi-orientated stories happened in -_ that is, until a abnormally high-pitched voice caught his attention instantly.

''This is no place for you!''

It was difficult not to flinch at the loud, ear-ringing pitch – but Naruto prevailed and turned his head towards the source of noise. He looked out of the large glass windows before shuffling back a few feet, his blue eyes flickering around the obscured frame of a built-in glass door before finally spotting the speaker. It happened to be a bird…a tiny, pudgy little chickadee, and it was fluffing its wings on the railing outside in the courtyard, it's black, beady eyes staring intently at him.

''Well?'' the chickadee urged before _– with a jerk of its beak upward towards the towering outer wall -_ adding, ''You should be up there!''

And Naruto tried not to shrink at its tone, half-tempted to ignore the aggressive little bird and flee. But maybe it needed to tell him something, warn him of something, like the way those street signs or letters tended to do on occasion. He had once ignored the obvious hint of the letter _'D'_ when he had been much younger and starting high school. Back then, and still to this day, Naruto knew that he should've paid heed to the warning because _D_ meant there was a _demon_ around but he had ignored it and…and bad things happened.

''Why…?'' Naruto mumbled hesitantly, his eyes darting around the empty corridor.

Last thing he needed is Iruka or someone else to come along, see him nattering to a bird and revoke his freedom. The pills he was on subdued his dubbed 'delusions' and turned the 'voices' he heard into a hushed rumble – but such things remained and Naruto would've been stupid just to ignore them, wouldn't he? They helped him. _Sort of_. Sometimes the wind or shrubs _– _or _one time that lying alley cat –_ had said nasty things, but they were just exceptions and Naruto had been more careful with his choices over his later years of life. He knew that if he didn't ignore some of those murmured suggestions then the doctors would've pumped him with those drugs which made him sleepy and hopeless like they did back when he was fifteen after his winter excursion...

''Don't you recognize it?'' the chickadee's high-pitched voice sounded so shocked, its black eyes glinting dangerously. ''The wall, Naruto, the wall!''

Shifting anxiously, Naruto followed the tiny, jerking feathery head nodding in the direction of the outer wall that fenced off the courtyard. It was a tall structure, at least ten feet, made of mottled bricks with a collection of ivy vines spilling over from the top. From the small distance from the glass doors he was peering through, it reminded him almost of the picturesque walls from the book he had once read about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and…

''But it is,'' the bird urged, wings flapping furiously. ''You must climb the vines to enter paradise, become a King-!''

''Naruto,'' a hand landed on the blonde's shoulder, his glazed eyes blinking, ''Naruto?''

Moving away from the window, the teen winced a little at the owner of the hand – Iruka – who was sending him a worried expression.

''What are you doing loitering here? Sakumo and Kakashi are wai-'

_'Kakashi?'_ Naruto's mind bellowed the name, his hands becoming sweaty and knees giving a brief shake of excitement. _'Kakashi's here? In here? He came to pick up Sakumo-papa?'_ thoughts seemed to be flying out of mind, no matter how simply they seemed to be answered. It shouldn't have came as a shock for Kakashi – Sakumo's one and only and prized son – was coming to pick him up. But still, the sudden reminder of the fact he was going to meet Kakashi and that meeting was sooner than he had anticipated…after all, Naruto had been holding off his brimming excitement for meeting the younger Hatake upon arriving at his new living arrangements.

But _no_, he was going to meet Kakashi _now_ – and Naruto found himself running down the corridor, barely aware until he whizzed around a corner with Iruka's sputtered yell of _'no running'_ echoing in his ears.

Naruto had heard _so much_ of Kakashi but the only image he had seen happened to be a crinkled old photo which Sakumo had kept in his robe pocket. It had been a snapshot of a younger-looking Sakumo, his brunette-haired late wife (Setsuko, if Naruto recalled) and a tiny, chubby toddler-version of Sakumo who turned out to be Kakashi. Naruto often daydreamed and wondered during some of Sakumo's more repetitive tales as to what Kakashi looked like now, but those images blurred and faded often making him irritable. He had even tried prying more out of Sakumo about his adult son, only to receive the comment of _'he looks just like me'_ and _'shorter hairstyle but more gravity defying'_ before slipping into a fond recollection of his late-wife's constant attempts of trying to groom Kakashi's hair into a more presentable manner before she passed when the boy was six.

So, here the Uzumaki was, stumbling over the ends of his baggy jeans, his feet rubbing a little against the canvas of his shoes and breath coming out in excitable, breathless huffs as he skidded to a halt in front of the patient-visitor room's doors.

The teen didn't think twice about peeping through the narrow, vertically-reglangular piece of glass that acted as a window by the handle of the door, his blue eyes instantly catching sight of Sakumo seated in one of the chairs, donning a simple white shirt, slacks and dull-green sweater vest. It was odd how just a simple change in attire changed the demeanor of a person, especially when you had spent all year befriending someone who was clad in pajamas. However, admiring Sakumo's bespectacled, soft grinning features didn't last for long and Naruto gaped a little at the sight of the famed Kakashi Hatake who was seated opposite of his father, a small smile tugging at his perfect lips and highlighting the dimple in his right cheek in such a charming, stomach-fluttering way which Naruto hadn't experienced in a long, long time.

_'They do look alike,'_ the blonde silently speculated, nervously gnawing on his bottom lip.

He continued to scan the scene, watching the pair of older male's converse as his blue eyes tried to widen to take in _everything_ he could see about the youngest Hatake. They had the same ivory skin tone, shockingly pale hair _(and style, although Kakashi's swooped madly to one side and lacked Sakumo's pony-tail)_ and build, although Kakashi appeared more sinewy in his rumpled yet body-fitting navy-sweater and black slacks. Naruto was mid-way through working himself up when he realized he had pressed himself against the door, unknowingly making the moveable object creak forward until it was too late and found himself tipping forward, yelping, and nose-diving towards the pale-colored linoleum.

By the time he lifted his head up _– stunned expression obviously in place –_ Naruto found the room's two sole occupants staring at him. Sakumo was already on his feet, looking fretful but Kakashi…_Kakashi_ was quirking an eyebrow at _him_ and Naruto felt his face flush with heat, his brain taking a silent note how the younger Hatake's eyes appeared to be the lighter shade of his mother's charcoal as opposed to Sakumo's deeper black.

''Naruto, there you are,'' Sakumo was already by him, tugging him up onto his feet – but Naruto was far too focused on staring at Kakashi to utter thanks, his throat suddenly tight. ''Careful now.''

''Aa, so you're Naruto,'' the younger Hatake chimed in, and Naruto nodded so hard his brain rattled, heartbeat thrumming crazily. ''My first impression of you is…''

Naruto felt his brain short circuit at the drawled sound of Kakashi's voice addressing him. It sounded like a lazy drone of a beehive in summer yet held all the drizzling, tasty smoothness of honey. But such an inner brain sputtering and wide-eyed expression of trying to absorb Kakashi's voice came to an end as the teen felt his brain slip into stand-by mode. After all, Kakashi was staring at _him – eyes slightly half-curved and happy but just as intense –_ and Naruto felt his heart leap into his throat, his ears straining to hang off _every_ word as the attractively tall and composed male finally finished his sentence.

''…I don't like you.''


End file.
